Santa Claws (Wyndham Werewolf #4)

Santa Claws (Wyndham Werewolf #4) Page 4

“Y’should. Stay with me.”

“I can’t.” She was wriggling—regretfully, but still wriggling—out of his grasp. Trying, anyway. He had no trouble whatsoever keeping her in the circle of his arms. “I’m sorry. I’d love to. I can’t. Leggo.”

“But you must.” He found her breast—not easy, given its encasement in sensible gray flannel—and cupped it in his palm. The firm, warm weight made his head swim. “You’re for me and I’m for you, lovely Giselle. Besides, I’m not going to let you leave.”

“What?”

“Besides, what if you heave?”

“Oh. I thought—look, I feel fine. I don’t think I’ll be sick again.”

“But what if y’are? I promised Dr. Madison I’d look after you for the next twenty-four hours. It’s only been about six.”

“But I feel fine.”

“But I promised.”

“Well...if you promised...and if it’s doctor’s orders...” She was weakening. She wanted to be persuaded. So he’d persuade her, by God.

Chapter Six

One minute they were having a (reasonably) civilized conversation, and the next his hands were everywhere. Her nightclothes were tugged, pulled, and finally torn off her. His weight bore her back on the bed.

“Alec!” Surprise made her voice squeakier than usual. “For crying out loud, I feel like I’m caught in an exercise machine—yeek!” ‘Yeek’ because his head was suddenly, shockingly between her breasts, his long fingers were circling one of her nipples, then tugging impatiently on the bud. Heat shot through her stomach like a comet. And speaking of comets, what the hell wasthat pressing against her leg?

“I don’t think this is what the doctor had in mind—” she began again.

“Giselle, my own, my sweet, I would do nearly anything you asked.” He was having this conversation with her cleavage. “But will you please stop talking for just a minute?”

“Forget it. I reserve the right to chat if you’ve reserved the right to rip up my nice new nightgown,” she informed the top of his head. And her old panties. Well, at least it wasn’t laundry day. No Granny underpants on her, thank you very much!

She was striving to sound coolly logical, matter-of-fact, but his mouth was busy nibbling and kissing and licking; it was too damned wonderful. Distracting! She meant distracting. She ought to kick him in the ‘nads. Whywasn’t she kicking him in the ‘nads? Or at least screaming for help?

Because he wouldn’t hurt her. Because he wanted her with a clear, hungry passion no man had ever shown her. Because she had a crush on him the size ofAustralia . Because if she screamed he might stop.

“Uh...help?” she said weakly, a moment before he rose up and his mouth was on hers. He smelled clean and masculine; his lips were warm and firm and insistent. His tongue traced her lower lip, then thrust into her mouth. Claimed it. His groin was pressing against hers and she could feel his...er...pulse.

She tore her mouth from his, not without serious regret. If he kissed her likethat again, it was all over. Good-bye, good-girl rep. Hello, new life as a slut puppy. “Condoms!” she shouted into his startled face. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks you don’t have any.”

“Of course I don’t,” he said indignantly. He was—ack!—shrugging out of his shirt. His chest was tanned (in December!) and lightly furred with black hair. She actually moved to see if his chest hair was as crisp as it looked, then pulled her hands back and clenched them into fists. “I didna come here to mate. Have sex, I mean. I’m here on business. I never thought—”

“Yeah, well, that’s a problem, Buckaroo Banzai, because I didn’t exactly line my bra with prophylactics, either. Which means looky but no nooky. In fact,” she added on a mutter, “we shouldn’t even looky.”

“But you’re on the Pill—ow, dammit!”

She’d formed a fist and smacked him between the eyes. The only way he would have known she was taking birth control pills is if he had gone through her purse while she was sick; she’d stopped at the pharmacy on the way to work and picked up her prescription.

“We had to,” he said, as if reading her mind. He rubbed the red spot on his forehead, which was rapidly fading. “Dr. Madison was concerned we’d have to take you to the hospital. She needed to know if you were taking any medication.”

“A likely story,” she grumbled, but it sounded plausible, so she didn’t follow up with a headbutt. Not that she’d ever done one in her life, but how hard could it be? “And it’s the Minipill, Mr. Knows-So-Much. Besides, I’m not worried about getting pregnant—”

“You should be,” he teased. Except she doubted he was really teasing.

“I’m worried about catching something. Without condoms our options are—thank God—limited. Saran Wrap and a rubber band? Forget it. For all I know you could be crawling with disease. I could be taking my life in my hands if I let you bone me!”

“Boneyou? Crawling—” He got up off her—weep!—and started to pace. Shirtless, and with an interesting bulge beneath his belt buckle. She struggled to keep her gaze on his face. Well, his shoulders, at least. “First of all, my family—we don’t—that is to say, I’ve never been sick a day in my life, and no one I know has ever had—er—problems in that area. Second, I know for a factyou’re disease-free.”

“How?” she asked curiously. He was right, of course, but how’d he know?

“It’s hard to—never mind. And third...third...” He laughed unwillingly and ran a hand through his hair. It stuck up in all directions but, instead of looking silly, it only made him look immensely likeable. Adorably rumpled. “Giselle, you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known. You—” He shook his head. “There’s just something about you. I can’t put it into words. Come back toScotland with me.”

She’d been busily arranging the covers over herself, though it was a bit late for modesty, and looked up. “What?Scotland ? You mean, like a visit?”

“...sure. A visit.” He grinned. “Starting tomorrow, and ending never.”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, if you still feel like this tomorrow...later today, I mean...I could leave you my phone number.”And never hear from you again, most likely.

“We need Santas inScotland ,” he said seriously. “It can be a verra lonesome place.”

“Oh, come on!” She started to get the giggles, and laughed harder when he pounced on her like a big cat. A good trick, since he’d been standing several feet away from the bed. The man was in great shape, no doubt about it. “Now, cut it out...get off, now! I told you, no condoms, no nooky.”

“What if I could prove I wasn’t—er—how did you put it? Crawling with disease?”

“Prove it how?” she asked suspiciously. Part of her couldn’t believe they were having this discussion. The last time she’d had sex had been...uh...what year was it? Anyway, the point was, this wasso unlike her.

Well, why not? Why not jump without looking for once in her ridiculously dull life? The most interesting thing about her was her name...Mama Smith had been Jane Smith, of all the rotten jokes, and wanted her kid to be remembered. It didn’t work. Short, plump women with brown hair and brown eyes weren’t exactly noticed on the street.

Until today.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “and back off a minute, let me think.” She pinched his nipple, hard. He yelped and reared back. “That’s better. Okay, if you can prove you’re disease-free, I’ll stay the night with you.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. Her face was so red she was sure her head was going to explode, like that poor schmuck inScanners . “I’ll do anything you want until the sun comes up. You’ve got my word on it. And a Smith never goes back on her word. This Smith, anyway,” she finished in a mutter.

He looked at her, wide-eyed. Then turned so quickly—snake-quick, it was uncanny—and grabbed for the telephone.

“Wait a minute, who are you calling?” she asked, alarmed. She hadn’t thought he could prove a damn thing at two o’clock in the morning. “If it’s some buddy inScotland who’s gonna back you up—”

“I’m callingMassachusetts GeneralHospital ,” he said, grinning widely. “Good enough? Dr. Madison has staff privileges there. She’s been looking after my family for years and years. She’ll tell you all about my medical history if you like.”

He put the phone on speaker, so she could hear the hospital operator.Madison was paged, and soon came to the phone.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked. She also had an accent, this one the clipped intonation of a blue blood Bostonian. “I had a terrible time calming Alec down while you were ill.”

“I’m—ack!”

“No idle chit-chat,” Alec said in her ear, and ran a finger all the way down her spine.

She turned and slapped his hand away, then grabbed for the receiver so Alec wouldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “I’m fine, much better...listen, does Alec have any STDs that I, as a potential—ack!—sexual partner should know about?”

“STDs? You mean like AIDS or—oh dear—”

Giselle held the phone away, the better not to be deafened by the woman’s shriek of laughter. A few seconds later, Doc Madison had it under control: “Sorry about that. I give you my word as a physician and a lady, Alec has never been sick a day in his life. Nor any of his family. They’re a...a healthy lot.” Another chuckle. “Why do I have the feeling I’ll be seeing more of you, dear?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Okay, then, tha—” That was as far as she got before Alec was tossing the phone across the room, and her back on the bed.